Come lassie with me

into the field of wildflowers & weeds,
and lay hidden from the inquisitive world,
under the baking sun,
perfumed by the short grass with wet roots,
intoxicated by the dark, damp loam
come away with me again –
it’s not too soon for me –
to the overgrown fallow field
where tall dry grass cushions our threshings
under the secretive, dark sky
with pinpricks of crystal lux
and glacial crescent moonbeams
illuminate your downy skin